


five times castiel made a vow (and the one he kept)

by meredithsays



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sastiel - Freeform, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithsays/pseuds/meredithsays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi frowned and reached forward. Her fingers rested lightly on his temple. “Think not of this blasphemy. It is God’s will, and you have sworn fealty to Him.” It was true. Castiel bowed his head, ashamed. He raised his hands in repentance and vowed to serve her until the end of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times castiel made a vow (and the one he kept)

The cities were in ruin, but none so much as Babylon. Castiel watched as the fires blazed and stone cracked against the screaming citizens. He blinked, suddenly unsure. His commanding officer put her hand on his shoulder and smiled. Her robes swept the shattered road, dotted in the blood of innocents.

“Well done, Castiel,” she spoke softly, silhouetted by violence. “Well done. This is God’s will.”

He nodded blankly, a scream echoing in his ears. A child knelt over her mother’s corpse, crying. An unexpected thought came to Castiel. “Why would God will his children’s death?”

Naomi frowned and reached forward. Her fingers rested lightly on his temple. “Think not of this blasphemy. It is God’s will, and you have sworn fealty to Him.” It was true. Castiel bowed his head, ashamed. He raised his hands in repentance and vowed to serve her until the end of time.

*

This man did not belong in Hell, Castiel thought. He grasped his arm and pulled with divine strength, settling his soul back into its vessel and nodding at his handiwork. This was the Righteous Man, and he had been chosen from all his kin to assist him. But he did not understand when Castiel greeted him, instead diving into broken glass and hiding behind salt.

For someone with as important a role as he had, Dean Winchester did not live up to Castiel’s expectations. He said as much to Hester, who laughed. Their voices echoed in the wind chimes outside the convenience store.

 _I fear that this will not go the way our Father intended,_ Castiel allowed.

Hester dulled the sky with a somber greyness as she told him, _Then you must guide it_. Castiel agreed, watching the human inspect his reflection. He vowed to guide him to his destiny - to force the Winchester brothers to submit to their fates.

*

Maybe it was when he tricked Raphael into protecting the prophet. Castiel wasn’t positive, but his first experience dying was a likely candidate for when he realized he would not allow any harm to come to the Winchesters. They were weak, fragile creatures and at first he did not understand what feeling they conjured deep in his vessel’s chest cavity. Was it duty? Responsibility? He had felt these before. He shook the younger brother’s hand and looked him in the eye, suddenly unsure of the chemicals rushing through his veins. Perhaps it was simple proximity to such important tools of Heaven.

It was overwhelming, being so close to the boy with the demon blood. The boy with the bright eyes and thousands of unanswered prayers. The boy with a wiser soul than any Castiel had encountered before. It pulsed with a brilliance that reminded him of the angels free from vessels and earthly restraints.

Sam Winchester was beautiful, Castiel realized. It had been hidden beneath the white cast of his soul’s light and the streaks of blackness and blood that had been written into his story before his birth. But he was special apart from the tragedy that followed him. Unlike his brother, he laughed softly and not until he was sure everyone understood the joke. He exuded pain, but it was not from the marks of the cross he carried – it was from witnessing the people around him and their personal sorrows. Castiel wondered if he’d ever seen a spirit so close to the children God wanted so badly. He vowed never to let Sam Winchester be hurt; he vowed to do anything and everything in his limited power to keep his soul safe.

*

He should have known, should have realized that he was never meant to hold God’s mantle. But Castiel didn’t regret the souls, didn’t regret opening Purgatory, didn’t regret anything as much as the look on Sam’s face when he stabbed him in the back. He looked exhausted, trembling against the force of trauma and memory and what Castiel had done. His eyes were glassy and his soul was stretched, thinning around the edges and straining to hold in all the violence and torture it had been made to endure. Nothing was worse than that memory, burned into the edges of Castiel’s brain. Sam’s pain was white-hot and dangerous unlike anything Castiel had ever experienced. He would have swapped places with him in the Cage, rather than see the shell that he rescued. Devoid of a soul, devoid of the compassion that made Castiel’s heart flutter – it wasn’t Sam. He walked through Hell to rescue him and failed. But who else would he have even attempted it for?

Any remaining vestiges of Emmanuel’s ignorance or bliss drained away as Castiel sat on the edge of Sam’s bed, gathering his strength as Sam twitched, collapsed upon wrinkled white. This was not justice. The man strained away from the angel, fighting even through his body’s surrender. He flinched as Castiel drew forward, pulled the hallucinations and the ugly instability from the corners of his mind. Sam watched as Castiel’s eyes burned, as he mumbled before Satan’s face took hold.

He listened as Castiel vowed in bits and pieces to protect Sam’s agency at any and all costs, to make up for his transgression – to do what was right for the man he was beginning to believed he loved.

*

Ezekiel’s grace drained from Sam’s body, and Castiel stared at the syringe with a horrible pang of déjà vu. This was not what he needed to do, not for Sam. He had come back from so much – he had endured terrible violations of body, mind, and soul, and he did not need angel remnants removed so much as he needed to be told that he was loved – that he was worth this.

Castiel wiped the drop of blood from Sam’s skin and told him as much, solid and strong, “Nothing is worth losing you.” But he had been ready to die, hadn’t he? He was willing to accept his fate, to accept that it was the end of his road. Castiel’s hands clenched empty air as he tried to decide what was moral. It wasn’t his choice, ultimately.

But Sam wrapped his arms around him, murmuring, “This is the part where you hug back,” and Castiel thought maybe he could add an item to Sam’s list of reasons to live. He did as instructed, lingering too long, hoping Sam would understand.

With a few pats on his back, Sam withdrew and Castiel felt a coldness where he had been. Without thinking, he grabbed at his hand and Sam froze, a question unspoken on his lips. Castiel answered with his own, pressed into chapped skin as he grasped Sam’s fingers, willing himself to step back confidently and calmly. Sam touched his bottom lip for a moment, speechless before his face split into the smile Castiel had craved for years, sweeping the angel into another kiss.

Castiel vowed between frantic kisses and stolen breaths that he would never allow himself to be separated from Sam Winchester – that nothing could possibly take him away.

+1

It was very white – the kind of symbolism that suggested purity and wholeness. Castiel smirked at the thought – although maybe the stark black of their suits was meant to represent their broken histories, or even the filthiness of the impending night. The cathedral was higher than they had expected, stained glass casting rainbow images on the faces of their few guests, smattered in the front rows.

Castiel’s hands did not shake as he slipped the band onto Sam’s finger, the crooked brass ring secure against his hand. He looked up in time to see Sam shake away a tear, laughing at his sentiment.

He took a deep breath before he vowed to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, until death did them part. The applause from the modest congregation thundered in their ears as Castiel kissed his husband, sure that this vow he would not break.


End file.
